


Off-Limits

by cecilia095



Category: New Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Nick Was The Drunker One Obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilia095/pseuds/cecilia095
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't mean to drunkenly kiss Schmidt's fiancée's best friend. <b>AU.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Off-Limits

**Author's Note:**

> Basically: [we drunk-kissed but you forgot about it and I don’t know how to act around you anymore wtf.](http://damnmulder.tumblr.com/post/120405740352/friendship-to-romance-tropes-i-cant-get-enough-of)
> 
> This was supposed to be a drabble, and it might still be, I don't know, but like. How long is a drabble supposed to _be_? Are there rules? Is there a reason I can't seem to write less than like, 1,500 words? W/E. Have this anyway.

He doesn't mean to drunkenly kiss Schmidt's fiancée's best friend, but  _the beer_ and  _she was there_ and -- Okay, he's only hung out with Jess what, twice? But she laughs at like, two-thirds of his jokes and the way she bats her eyelashes when she does might drive him crazy (if all women weren't The Devil, Trademark -- _thanks_   _Caroline_ ).

Schmidt says, "No, Nicholas. She's off-limits." when they're all three drinks in because he knows Nick.

"What?" Nick lifts his beer away from his mouth and shrugs like he doesn't know what Schmidt is about to accuse him of. "She's  _pretty_ , okay?"

"She's pretty _off-limits_ ," Schmidt whispers, and maybe if this were Three Drinks Later, he'd give in, because --

"Don't you want me to be happy, my man?", Nick asks, and he's tearing a little bit (half for dramatic effect, half because he can't remember the last time he's touched a Living, Human Woman).

"Jess," Schmidt starts, "is delicate, and emotional. She's the kind of woman who knits scarves for you and packs you a peanut butter and jelly in your lunchbox. No. I'm actually thinking of setting her up with Winston."

Nick stands up in protest and balls up both of his fists, banging them onto the bar counter. "Sorry," he apologizes when Cece and Jess look over, mid-conversation, with wide eyes. He bends down to Schmidt's level and speaks through gritted teeth. " _Winston_? He doesn't deserve this!"

Schmidt gets a kick out of that. "And you do? Nick, the last date you went on was in the McDonald's drive thru."

Nick wags a finger at Schmidt. "She had  _no problem_ reaching into my wallet to pay for her McChicken."

Schmidt repeats a stern, "No", and then he orders the four of them another round of shots.

—

Nick's breath reeks of tequila, but Jess is finally sitting next to him. Took enough drinks.

"So..." She takes off her glasses and sets them down next to a crumpled up napkin and an empty shot glass. "Are you seeing anyone?"

Right to the point. Nice. And he didn't have to do anything. Go Nick! "Ummm, yeah, I'm - I'm single."

Jess wrinkles her nose and inches into him. " _Ceceee_ ," she says in a sing-song voice, "told me that  _you_ _uu_ hate women."

"I don't  _hate_ them," he says, and then he takes a sip of his... He lost track of what any of this alcohol actually was three drinks ago. "I just hate when they throw bricks at my car, or don't return my drunken voicemails."

"Oh! Both of those have actually happened to me!", she says like it's a good thing. "My car was a piece of crap anyway, but my  _voicemails_. God, I even sang like Judy Garland in two of them."

Nick's had  _way_ too much to drink. He looks across to Cece and Schmidt, who are drunkenly debating on how to fly the rabbi in at their wedding. 

"Um. You're. You know, you're," he starts, but then he freezes, and Jess is just staring at him with a straw half-in her mouth. "Do you want to step outside with me for a smoke?"

Jess looks startled.

"I don't... I don't even smoke. I don't know what I'm saying. But do you want --"

Jess stands up before he can finish, and she's sure to bring her half-dranken drink with her. She pushes her bangs away from her forehead. "Abso-freakin'-lutely."

Nick just laughs.

"I don't know why I said  _that_ , so now we're even. About the smoking thing. Yeah. Let's go."

—

It's got to be one, two in the morning, and they're the only two people standing in front of Clyde's Bar. 

Jess is in this short, red dress he didn't notice before, and he thinks her teeth are chattering.

"You're cold," he says more like a fact than a question, and she just nods. "This is the part of the night where - where if I had a jacket, I'd give it to you, but I'm an irresponsible adult and I don't own a jacket."

Jess laughs and wraps her arms around herself. "Schmidt's mentioned that," she says.

"What, that I don't own a jacket?"

"No, that you're an irresponsible adult," she says, biting down on her lip. "Do you  _really_ not own a checking account?"

"I  _really_ don't," he says, and he's laughing at himself.

Jess bats her eyelashes at him twice, and Nick remembers  _The Signal_.

Okay, no, it's a long story, and he's  _wasted_ , but  _The Signal_ \-- It happened on an episode of  _How I Met Your Mother_. Cece and Schmidt were watching it, and Schmidt was like, "Come, you could learn something from this, Nicholas", and he did. He learned that women give you  _The Signal_ before they want you to kiss them, and Ted missed the damn signal, and nine, ten years down the road, he asked Robin if that, in fact, she gave him  _The Signal_ , and she said yes, and then he got mad at himself.

Jess giggles and inches in closer to him, and okay, this isn't  _The Signal_. This is just _Absolutely Wasted._

Nick kisses her first, he thinks. At first, it's just a peck, but then Jess locks her lips on his and they both taste like straight up tequila. A minute later, his hands are in her hair, and her arms are sliding down his torso, and she's almost moaning against his kisses, and  _Screw you, Schmidt. How off-limits is she now, buddy?_. 

It's a really good kiss. Kisses. They kiss a lot, for what feels like a long time, and when Jess pulls away, his lips are throbbing and he can't smell anything but her perfume.

—

Everyone stumbles into separate cabs at around three, and Jess doesn't even say goodnight to him.

—

Nick's  _a gentleman_ , and he's about to prove Schmidt wrong, and -- "Nicholas, what the  _hell_?"

Schmidt rubs his eyes, and he looks like shit. His precious hair is all messed up, and Nick's not even about to tell him his undershirt is on backwards or he'll have a fit. "Flowers? Are they for me? I have to say, I knew this was coming, but I'm happily betrothed."

Speaking of. Cece sneaks up behind him and starts to laugh. "It's eight in the morning, what the hell are you doing with -- Are those tulips? Schmidt hates tulips."

"They aren't for Schmidt!" 

"Well they're not for --" Schmidt widens his eyes. "If you're so in love with Cece, then why did you decline my threesome offer five years ago? You said she, 'Wasn't your type'."

"Oh my God,  _never_ happened!", Cece shouts, face palming. (It  _so_ happened. Drunken night, the three of them at Clyde's until closing, Cece letting it slip that it, ' _Might be a good time, whatever, who cares._ ').

"Look, you're gonna laugh at me, but I don't even  _care_ ," Nick says, and Schmidt's like, "Obviously. We laugh at you every day, Nicholas. I mean, look what you're wearing right now. Those shoes clash with those pants. Try khakis next time." 

"Dude. Just. I need Jess's address." Schmidt won't take him seriously, so he turns to Cece. "Cece, I need - I need your friend Jess's address."

Cece's about to give it to him until she stops herself. "Wait... why? Oh my God, are those flowers for - for  _Jess_?"

Nick's red in the face, but he manages to mumble out a small, "Maybe", and Cece rolls her eyes.

"You're not allowed to date my friend," she says, and Schmidt's nodding in front of her. "No, like, I'll come to your house and murder you if you try to date my friend. Absolutely not. Off-limits. She's going through a breakup."

"You said that happened months ago," Nick says.

"Well look at the memory on you!", Schmidt shouts.

"It did, and she's still healing. Now go to the 7-Eleven you got those flowers from and  _return them_."

Schmidt shakes his head in protest. "Babe, you can't -- You can't  _return_ flowers, but -- Nick, did you really get those at a 7-Eleven, you cheap bastard?"

"Look, they sell four mini tacos for a dollar, and they sell flowers. Get off my ass, Schmidt. You too, Cece. I'm doing a  _nice thing_."

"You don't buy girls flowers," Cece says through gritted teeth. "What'd you do to her? Did you try and lift up her dress when we weren't looking or something?"

" _We_ ," he starts, and he looks too proud of himself, and Cece and Schmidt are legitimately scared, "shared a  _kiss_. Shared. Meaning she wanted it to happen too."

—

Cece gives Nick Jess's address, and it's Saturday so she's definitely not teaching middle schoolers, and she's definitely, probably at home knitting a scarf listening to her Joni Mitchell record on loop.

Jess lowers  _River_ when she hears three knocks on her door, and her eyes widen when she swings it open. "Umm... Schmidt's... friend. Right?"

What. What even. Does she not. Nick starts to freak out, and he hides the flowers behind his back, as if that's going to erase the fact that she already saw them. "R-Right. Um. I had fun last night."

"Oh my -- Oh my  _God_." She looks horrified. The color drains from her face, and  _God_ , Nick Miller is talented at one thing, and that's Scaring Women Away. Seriously, he should teach a class at a community college all about it. "Did we -- Me and you, we --  _Sex_?"

"How drunk  _were_ you?", he laughs, but she's not laughing at all. "We just kissed, that's it."

"Kissed? Me and you? No." She's laughing now too, and now is  _not_ a good time to pull out the flowers, Nick. "Are those... Tulips. Nice. My third favorite flower."

"Yeah, Cece mentioned that actually," he says.

" _Cece_?" Again: horrified. "She knows about this?"

"Actually, so does - so does Schmidt. How do you  _not_?"

"Well I was... you know...  _drunk_. Also, I'd  _never_ go for you."

"Well, why not?" He's almost serious. "Never mind. I don't want to know. It's probably because I don't have a checking account. Um. Bye!"

He drops the flowers, and his face is  _hot_ , and Jess is just standing in her doorway wincing in confusion, and  _oh God_ _, don't do this, Miller, don't start walking backwards._

—

"And then he just... He dropped the flowers, started biting his lip and like, -- Okay, what do you call  _this_?"

Jess stands up and starts to do the Moonwalk with a scared look in her eyes, and Cece and Schmidt gasp, and then they start to crack up simultaneously. 

"He Panic Moonwalked? Oh my God."

"...'Panic Moonwalk'? What's - That's a thing?"

"In Nicholas's World, yes, yes it is," says Schmidt.

"What does that even  _mean_?" Jess asks.

"He's probably not-so-secretly in love with you," says Cece, and then she winks at Jess. "Way to go!"

—

Next time they all get drunk together, they're on the floor in Cece and Schmidt's living room, and Jess only has three beers and  _that's it_. (Mostly because she's a teacher and it's a Tuesday, but also because she'd like to... you know...  _remember_ ).

This time, when Nick kisses her, she smiles into it, wiggles in closer to him and cups the side of his face and nips at his top lip.

The next morning, she texts him:  _That was nice. Please don't Panic Moonwalk at me ever again, though._


End file.
